


On the Other Side of the Fence

by Homicidal Whispers (HomicidalWhispers)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Divergent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manga Spoilers, More tags later, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomicidalWhispers/pseuds/Homicidal%20Whispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eren asks Armin to make the decision for him to leave or stay after he is witnessed transforming, Armin makes a different call. Instead of turning himself into the military, he escapes over the wall. But, either way, Armin won't let Eren leave him and Mikasa behind. Basically a What If fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Travel

The air is filled with dense, acrid smoke and Armin feels like he can’t breathe. Eren and Mikasa stare at him, waiting for him to speak, putting their fates into his hands. It is too tense and he is under too much pressure; he can’t think like this.

He looks at their expectant expressions and thinks _I’ll just have to think while I talk, then._ He cannot let them down. That isn’t an option.

“I could explain logically why you aren’t a threat, Eren,” he begins slowly. “In fact your existence would give the military a tactical advantage. The problem is that these people aren’t thinking rationally. They’re too overwhelmed with fear to make the logical decision.”

Eren nods slowly, his eyes fixed on Armin’s. “I understand. I’ll have to leave then.” His tone isn’t disappointed, only resigned. Armin doesn’t have to look to know the expression Mikasa will have, the stubborn set to her jaw, the hurt lurking in her eyes.

“But,” Armin continues, “you can’t leave us here, either.”

“What? You have to stay, it won’t be safe for you where I’m going!”

“Leave us behind if we can’t keep up, but we’re coming,” Mikasa snaps.

Eren opens his mouth to argue back but Armin forces his voice to be heard over them both. “You can’t leave us behind because it’s not safe for us here.” As he says the words, he knows they’re true. Eren looks dumbfounded, like the possibility had never occurred to him, and Armin nods vehemently, knowing he’s struck the one argument that can make him change his mind. Eren will not let his friends get hurt, especially not on his behalf.

“What do you mean?” Eren asks.

“If you escape and leave us behind, the military will just capture Mikasa and I,” he explains. “They’ve already seen us with you, they’ve seen us trying to protect you. If you leave, they’ll try to get information from us by any means they have available. Not even Mikasa can take down the hundreds of soldiers they’ll send at us. Besides, you’ll become a wanted criminal. How will you get the supplies you need if you can’t get inside the walls? At the very least, you’ll need gas to operate your manoeuvre gear. Outside the wall is Titan territory.”

“But how would we escape?” he asks, frustrated. “I could turn into a Titan again, but it would make you two instant targets.”

“Your nose is bleeding, Eren,” Mikasa says. Eren looks at her in confusion and scrubs at his face with the hem of his shirt. It comes back smeared red with his blood. He hadn’t even noticed. Armin looks at his ragged face, his sunken eyes, and the paleness of his complexion.

“I don’t think you could transform again right now, even if you wanted to,” Armin says. “It’s taking a toll on your body. You need time to recover.”

“So what are we supposed to do, then?” Eren demands. “It’s the only way!”

The smoke is dissipating. Any minute it will be clear enough for the soldiers to aim. They need to leave, and they need to leave now. Armin talks low and fast. “We’ll use the smoke to escape before it disappears completely. They’re going to expect us to go over the wall. Instead, we’ll follow the wall and circle around them. The time it takes for them to realize what we did will give us the time we need to get to one of the underground passages, which will lead us quickly to a different part of the wall.”

“Where do we go from there?” Mikasa asks.

“There’s no time to worry about that for now, so just follow me!”

Eren and Mikasa nod their understanding. The smoke is clearing and visibility is returning. Armin sees the captain raise his hand in signal. The soldiers ready themselves and, as his hand falls, there is the _bang-bang-bang_ of rapid canon fire and the scent of gunpowder is in the air.

They are ready for it and dash away, to the side. As Armin had predicted, the majority of the fire had been directed at the evaporating Titan body and up the walls. It is easy to evade the rest. There is a moment of reprieve as the soldiers reload, and it is enough for them to get away.

Mikasa and Eren stick close behind him as they rush away, trusting him to lead them to safety. They enter the streets of the village, quiet and morose and still in mourning. No one was prepared for the sudden breach into Trost and the survivors are still in shock. The loud _snick_ of their gear deploying and rewinding and the _whoosh_ of spraying gas draws attention from civilians. They point and even from his vantage in the air, Armin can see their fear. Behind Wall Rose, many people have never seen soldiers at work before, but everyone knows it is illegal to use the gear in the city unless the Titans are attacking. He can’t stop to reassure them, though, not with the military finally having recovered its bearings and pursuing them.

The next few moments are crucial to escaping successfully. They have a good lead on their pursuers, but they cannot be seen going underground or they will be surrounded when they emerge. Armin has never been the best at operating the manoeuvre gear, but he grits his teeth and knows that if he messes up, all three of them are done for. He pulls a tight turn around a corner and then goes right again immediately after, so that he is going the way he just came from, but on a different street. He lets the gear recoil and drops to the ground, curling his body to land in a roll.

He hears two thuds right behind him, and for a moment he is elated; all three of them made it here and landed safely. Still, he can’t stop quite yet. He gives Mikasa and Eren a terse nod and then runs into the underground passage. The soldiers typically use these passages to quickly transport supplies to the walls. No one is here now, though. Everyone is at home with their families, or dead.

Their steps echo as they walk down the dank, dark corridor. They’re too cautious to speak, but it is quiet and there are no signs that they were followed here. Armin’s plan, so far, has worked.

They’re lucky enough to come across a set of supplies, the condensed packages intended for trainees going on overnight camping trips. Armin, Mikasa, and Eren are familiar with them, having graduated not too long ago. It’s a stroke of fortune; these things have gas canisters, food, tents – it’ll be enough to support them for a while outside of the wall. They won’t have to venture back inside for some time, enough time that the search for them will have died down.

There is no telling how much time has passed underground, but Armin is willing to bet that it’s less than it feels like it has been. Mikasa edges out into the sunlight and Eren and Armin meet eyes while they wait. She’s back soon, telling them that there are no soldiers in sight. The three of them leave the underground passage and are up and over the wall before anyone stops or questions them. This part of the wall is fairly far away from Trost; far enough that there are no Titans in sight, but not so far that they cannot hear the sound of canons firing. Trost is lost, but thus far, the Armored Titan hasn’t shown up and the Inhabitants of Wall Rose are safe.

“We’ll go to Tekkai, another outlying village like Trost was,” Armin explains as he adjusts their course.

“Why there?” Eren asks.

“There’s nothing special about it,” he answers. “There’s no reason for them to look for us there and we’ll be safe behind the walls. Even if the Armored Titan shows up, if they continue to follow the pattern, they’ll attack Wall Rose instead of another bait village. It’ll take a few days to get there, though, so in the meantime we need to avoid being captured.”

“Or eaten,” Eren adds.

“Or eaten,” Armin amends.

* * *

To get to Tekkai, they are forced to pass through a forest. It’s as good as place as any; any one searching for them will have a hard time finding them in the foliage. If any Titans come after them, they’ll have plenty of surfaces to use for manoeurvring. Armin, as the only one who knows where they’re going, takes the lead. He calls them to a stop quickly, though, claiming exhaustion. Eren isn’t fooled, though. He’s seen the looks Mikasa and Armin have been sending to each other, and he knows they are stopping for his sake. He is reluctantly grateful for it. He’d never say anything about it, but he is very fatigued.

They stop and set up a miniature camp. Armin goes to collect some wood while they set up so that he can start a fire. “Should we take watches?” Mikasa asks.

Armin, ever sensible, shakes his head no. “We’d wake up from their footsteps long before they arrive anyway.”

It isn’t quite night yet, but it has been a long day. They’ve faced down Titans as soldiers for the first time today and they have each seen and faced death. They have watched their comrades die. Without much talk, the three of them mutually agree to head to sleep. They split into two tents, one for Armin and Eren and the other for Mikasa. The separation is for space constraints rather than for modesty, because Mikasa has none where they are concerned. These are her brothers whom she’s known since the beginning of this new life. She’s already taken off her jacket and is unbuckling the harnesses as she enters her tent.

Eren allows Armin to precede him into their shared tent. It’s impossible to sleep comfortably in the leather harnesses. They’re not necessarily difficult to put on or take off – it’s a matter of arranging them properly and cinching the buckles at their waist, hips, thighs, knees, and ankles – but most people have discovered that it is certainly easier with someone else’s help. Armin and Eren have gotten in the habit of helping each other in and out of it. Armin’s sitting on the grassy floor, squirming as he tries to unbuckle the latches.

Without really thinking about it, Eren sits and draws him closer. He bats his hands away and replaces them with his own, experience allowing him to deftly find and undo the buckles quickly. Armin is obligingly still through the process except when he moves to give Eren access to the next latch.

When he’s done, Armin shrugs out of the harness and sets it to the side. Then he turns to Eren to return the favor, climbing astride his legs for the best access. Armin pulls off Eren’s jacket and goes to the first buckle, at his chest. Eren sighs, lies back and lets Armin manipulate his body. Now that he’s finally had a moment of rest, he can recognize how truly tired he is, a bone deep weariness from the excitement of the day and the shock of transforming.

Armin works swiftly, his movements diligent and certain. His hands remain steady throughout. Eren has always liked his hands, their swiftness and their accuracy. He writes like a scholar or a professional; his handwriting is much more sightly than Eren’s chicken scratch. His hands are confident, dexterous, nimble. They are soothing whenever they fall on Eren’s body.

Armin helps him to shuck off the gear, but he doesn’t stop there. His hands return and begin to unbutton Eren’s shirt. Eren allows it; it’s not the first time it’s happened and frankly, Eren feels so tired he doesn’t know if he’d have the will to do it himself. He takes off the shirt and Eren lounges comfortably under his friend’s gaze. Again, it is not the first time Armin has seen this.

Armin shifts on his lap. His hands goes to his pants, undoes the belt and then the buckle. Eren realizes absent-mindedly that he’s hard, but he can’t be bothered to get embarrassed about it. He’s a teenager, he gets boners at inopportune times and he’s ignored them before. Armin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, but he doesn’t mention it. If Armin’s hand brushes against the bulge while he pulls down the pants, neither of them say anything about it.

“Get some rest,” Armin tells him and it is a testament to how tired he is that he goes to lay down instead of resisting the order. He spares a look at his gear – it’s supposed to be re-oiled after each usage. Armin catches his look. “It can wait until morning.” Eren nods in agreement, more relieved than anything.

The packs they stole contain only blankets. The insulating sleeping bags are reserved for members of the Recon Corps, who are often away for weeks and months at a time. They need it more that trainees going on overnight trips, so they are left with ratty blankets that don’t do much to keep out chills. Luckily, it’s not too cold yet and it’s even better once Armin divests himself of his clothes and adds his blanket to the pile.

Armin comes under the blankets when Eren’s already halfway gone, drifting pleasantly on an ocean of exhausted bliss. He frowns sleepily.  “You’re cold,” he murmurs. He draws Armin to his body, nestles his chest against Armin’s back, wraps his arms around Armin’s front, shifts until their legs are intricately intertwined.

“You have a fever,” Armin corrects. Still, he does not make to escape Eren’s grasp and they are still like that when they fall asleep.

* * *

They are still like that when they wake up the next morning, too, all wrapped within each other. Eren can tell from the way Armin is breathing that he’s already awake and has been for quite some time. It says a lot that Eren slept in for so long; ever since his mother’s death and his father’s subsequent abandonment, Eren has been an incredibly light sleeper.

Eren remains still for a beat longer, inhaling deeply where his head is pressed into Armin’s neck. It’s meant to brace him for getting up, but instead he catches a long whiff of Armin’s scent. He smells sweaty, but under that is the familiar scent of ink and nutmeg, the new woodsy scent that came from spending a night on the mossy ground.

Armin notices and laughs. “Good morning,” he says fondly.

“Morning,” Eren mumbles into his throat and presses an impulsive kiss into the skin there.

Armin pats the hand wrapped around his waist. “I always liked you best half-asleep.” He pulls himself up, ignoring Eren’s half-heartened groan of protest. “Come on,” he says. He offers Eren a palm and drags him out of the tent. Armin waits a beat too long before letting go and Eren suddenly realizes this is the same arm that he lost saving Armin’s life.

Mikasa is lounging on a felled log, in just an undershirt and panties to match the boys in their underwear. She nods to greet them without really looking in their direction, poking listlessly at the embers of last night’s fire.

“There’s a river this way,” Armin says, gesturing. Eren has never been more grateful for his bookish friend. There aren’t many books on geography to be found, but Armin has devoured every one he could possibly get his hands on and remembered it all. It has come in handy; Eren isn’t sure how he ever thought he could survive on his own, without the two people closest to him. “We should probably all go at once. After, we can eat and head for Tekkai again.”

Eren and Mikasa nod their approval of this plan. They return to their tents momentarily for clothes and then they follow Armin to the river. They strip out of their undergarments and enter the water. Eren remembers Jean’s reaction to Mikasa, and her various suitors over the years. He doesn’t see anything that interesting about her himself; objectively he can see that she has an attractive body, a cinched waist and nicely-shaped tits, but he doesn’t see the attraction. All he sees when he looks at her is a sister and is a little weirded out by thinking of her as a sexual person.

Armin gets naked just as efficiently. He knows Armin’s body, too; they’ve been friends too long to never have seen each other. There were communal baths at the military training, after all, and it would be a lie to say they never compared dick sizes. He’s aware that he doesn’t think of Armin the same way he thinks of Mikasa. It would be false to say he’s not attracted to him, but it’s okay. He’s never acted on it and he’s kept his hands to himself, and their relationship has never suffered for it. He’s a teenager. He’s a little attracted to anything and anyone.

Armin turns to him and lays a hand on his forehead. Eren feels a tug somewhere deep in his gut. He frowns and, for a moment, Eren thinks it’s in response to his less than appropriate thoughts before he speaks. “You’re still a bit feverish,” he says.

Eren makes a noncommittal humming noise and turns away, heading into the water. In his haste, he trips on a stone worn slippery smooth from years of water running over its surface and lands face first in the river. It’s freezing cold. It does wonders to wipe away any improper thoughts he may have been harboring and if his fever doesn’t break after a bath in this, he’s sure nothing will get his temperature down. Armin makes a noise that’s half amusement and half concern and helps him up.

After they all bathe and clothe themselves, they return to their makeshift camp. Eren and Armin bring out their gear and begin the maintenance they’d skipped the night before: oiling the leathers, polishing the hinges, sharpening their dulled blades, and checking over the gear for imperfections. Mikasa, having done it the night before, slips away. She returns quickly with a couple of rabbits. She skins them and removes the entrails and when she’s done, Armin sets it on the fire. It’s a much nicer breakfast than military provisions would have been.

After they eat, the next hour is dedicated to deconstructing camp and erasing any trace that they had stopped there, just in case they are being tracked. Then they collect some water for the trip. There’s a brief discussion over whether they should proceed by foot or with their gear. The manoeuvre gear will shave at least a day off of the trip, but they ultimately decide that they should preserve the gas in case they come across Titans. Furthermore, the sound might attract others, possible pursuers and Titans alike.

So they continue on foot, albeit wearing their harnesses so they can respond quickly to an emergency. They leave early in the morning (although it is late to them, having become accustomed to a military schedule) and continue walking until it’s late in the evening. They forget to stop for food. It’s not because they’re not hungry, but when with everyone so hungry, they have learned to keep strict schedules where food is concerned so as to not over consume. However, it is hard to discern how much time has gone by. The canopy of leaves above their head is so dense that it blocks out nearly all light from the sun above. Everything is green, green, vibrant green. The plants, the bugs, even the few feeble rays of light that manages to get through appear green. It throws shadows onto their surroundings, makes them see things that aren’t really there and puts them unnecessarily on edge.

It also, Eren quickly realizes, paints the people green. Mikasa, with her dark hair and dark eyes, gets away with only a little bit of color in her face, but it does wonders on Armin. His blonde hair is shadowed by green and his eyes are turned a darker, murkier shade of blue.

They finally stop when Eren confesses that he’s needed to piss for the past several hours and everyone realizes just how late it’s gotten. There is no game to be found tonight, so they eat the tasteless field rations and choke it down with water. They undo their3-D manoeuvre gear and begin their maintenance in each other’s company, playing a silly word game to pass the time.

After, they retreat back to their tent, Armin and Eren get undressed. Eren doesn’t have the excuse of tiredness or fever to have Armin in his arms, and he fights down the surge of longing he feels. It’s okay, though, because when Armin joins him under the sheets, he presses himself against Eren without comment. They’re face to face, chest to chest. Their breath mingles together and their bare skin presses against each other in too many places. There’s no way Armin can miss his erection this time, because each time he shifts, he is brought into contact with it. He’s not made uncomfortable though, and he doesn’t leave. Armin puts his arms around Eren’s back; Eren dares to let his hands go to Armin’s tailbone, just above the swell of his butt.

Eren watches Armin’s eyes shut, concealing his brilliant gaze, and feels his breath even out. He stares at the top of Armin’s head for a while. He cannot remember when he falls asleep.

The next morning, after their bath, Armin continues debating the pros and cons of using their gear. His blonde hair is still wet, sending droplets of water cascading down his face whenever he moves. It is drying messily. For a moment, Eren forgets himself and he leans forward to brush Armin’s damp bangs behind his ears. He freezes mid-word and turns to look at him; Eren can’t fathom the thoughts reflected in eyes. He carefully avoids looking at Mikasa, who has a way of showing disapproval without saying much.

“I think we should take the chance,” he says to cover himself. “We’ll reach Tekkai in a few hours if we use the manoeuvre gear and it’ll take us another day and a half by foot. The choice is clear.”

“It’s been two days and we haven’t seen anyone following us,” Armin says slowly.

“And who cares if a Titan comes?” Eren says. He grins, the slightly feral, slightly mad look he gets whenever he thinks about Titans. “Let them come! I’ll kill every last one of them!”

Armin looks reluctantly convinced and looks to Mikasa. “If we can’t handle it, then we’ll just die,” she says reasonably and that, against all odds, does seem to reassure him some.

There is a saying about famous last words, Eren reflects. He ought to have learned by know that opening his mouth never leads to good things.

Just as Armin had speculated it would, the sound of the gear catches the attention of the Titans in the vicinity. Soon after heading off, they hear the pounding thuds of Titan footsteps following. Their gear is faster than they are, so they attempt to keep ahead. If they can make it to Tekkai, they will be safe behind the walls unless the Colossal Titan shows up.

But some of the Titans pursuing them are Abnormalities, one that runs faster than the others and one with explosive jumps that propel him several meters at a time. These two catch up to them first and it is either fight or be eaten; really, there is no choice. Between the three of them, these two are quickly taken care of, but the pause has allowed the rest to catch up.

And this is what they failed to consider. It isn’t one or two Titans after them; it isn’t a group of them, like in Shiganshina or Trost; it is a swarm of them. This is Titan territory. They are far outnumbered. Mikasa is an excellent fighter and Armin comes up with brilliant tactics to hold them at bay, but they will be overwhelmed. Sooner or later, they will run out of gas or their blades will dull too much to be of any use and there will be still more Titans after them.

A 15-meter class tugs at Mikasa’s wire, immobilizing her in midair. A 7-meter class plucks her out of the air. Eren can see her eyes widen with momentary fear before she collects herself and hacks at the Titan’s hand, allowing her to drop to the ground. Eren slices away the nape of the 15-meter while Armin takes down the 7-meter, giving her time to catch her breath and launch back into the air.

That had been too close. They can’t afford another close call like that. He puts his hand to his mouth and bites down hard, no hesitation. Thick, coppery blood flows into his lips and over his tongue, a taste that he despises but is beginning to be very familiar with. He waits a beat, two beats, but nothing happens.

Armin, up on a tree branch goes still. He is surrounded – a 7-meter on either side, a 15-meter behind him and Mikasa fighting another 15-meter in front of him. On the ground, two 4-meter class Titans wait, pawing at the trees and preventing him from escaping downward. Eren barely notices the Titan behind him, breathing down his throat and jaw opening wide. All he sees is Armin, frozen on the battlefield. He isn’t shaking, the way he was the last time, but his eyes flicker to each side desperately. Eren knows that he sees no way out of this.

On auto-pilot, Eren wheels around the Titan on his trail, gets behind him and slices its neck open. Its blood arcs into the air, shimmers on his clothes and evaporates into so much smoke. Eren roars. He has to protect Armin.

He doesn’t notice that he no longer has a human body. He doesn’t notice anything at all. He has to get to Armin and everything else is a nuisance sent to distract him. He will get rid of all annoyances so he can get to Armin. He kicks aside the 3-meter clawing at his feet and advances, his eyes locked on the tree where Armin is.

It happens in a split second. One moment he is several meters away. He sees the 15-meter open its mouth, exhale putrid breath, and reach for Armin. The next, he is at the tree, the Titan’s head is sailing through the trees, and his arm is smoking.

He turns to Armin and roars. Armin clings to the tree for balance, his blond hair whipping around him in the wind, droplets of spittle landing on his clothes. Then, cautiously, he steps off the branch. For a moment, he drops, but he lands safely in Eren’s cupped palm. He scrabbles up Eren’s good arm, the other still regenerating, and comes to a rest on one broad shoulder.

“Mikasa,” Armin yells. His voice fades in and out. Eren can’t quite make sense of the words. There is something he needs to remember. What is it? “Eren will get us out of here, come on!”

Another human lands in his line of sight. He screams at her. This is not Armin.

He feels Armin move from his shoulder and climb around to his face, hanging off his head so they could stare eye to eye. His presence is irritating, but he cannot bat this one away. He has to protect Armin, not hurt him.

“That’s Mikasa!” Armin yells at him. “She’s family! She’s your family.”

Eren tries to focus, tries to listen to Armin’s words, but it is like tuning into a bad radio station; all he gets is static and confusion. “Mikasa?” he tries.

“That’s right, Mikasa,” Armin repeats firmly. “Family. She’s your family, just like me. The three of us, we’re a family. We’ve got no one else. Do you remember?”

“Family,” Eren repeats. “Family.”

“You love her, just like I love you,” Armin tells him. Eren tries to focus on his words, certain they’re important. “I love you. Do you remember that?”

Eren stares at him and then shifts his gaze to the girl. He kneels, lets his hand fall palm up and waits for her to hop on. Then he raises himself back up, sets her down on his shoulder. There’s something he needs to remember. He needs to do something. He turns and looks back into the fray. There are Titans, just like him, all around. He needs to do something. He opens his mouth and howls at them, a roar that can be heard miles away and cows the smaller ones into submission.

“That way!” Mikasa yells in his ear, pointing. That’s right, Eren remembers. He needs to escape. But there are Titans in the way.

As if they sense him hesitate, he hears a series of _thunks_ in his back as they secure themselves to his body with their manoeuvre gear. Satisfied, he turns in the direction Mikasa indicated. There’s a Titan in his way, but it’s slow, stupid. He kicks it in the shin and it goes falling like an anchor in water, overcome by gravity. He stomps on its neck; its head separates with a sickening squelch, but Eren can’t pay any attention to that right now. There is another in its place already.

So he kicks and he punches and he fights like he’s never fought before. At some point, he goes crashing to the ground but he struggles back to his feet and continues ahead. They’ve reached the edge of the forest. This is good, Eren thinks vaguely. He’s pretty sure this is a good thing.

“They’ve stopped!” Armin shouts. Eren supposes it’s true, or Armin would not have said it. He takes a moment to look behind him. The Titans have indeed stopped – not a single one takes a step out of the forest. They cover their eyes, making moaning sounds, groaning like they’re in pain, but they stay in the forest.

Eren turns back around and continues walking, taking step after trudging step away from the forest and the Titans and the danger. He’s got to escape. He’s got to keep walking. He falls to his knees. He struggles to get up again, but he cannot. His vision is blinking away, going black at the edges.

“We’ve got to cut him out,” he hears, but the voice is muddled, like his head is stuck under several gallons of water. And then he’s gone.


	2. They Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin have a talk. It ends in sex.

The first time Eren wakes up, it is dark outside. He looks about the room he is in, trying to identify his surroundings, but he doesn’t recognize the place. He is in a bedroom, it seems, and he is lying in a bed, tucked under several blankets. It is stiflingly hot, but when he tries to remove them, his body won’t cooperate. In some corner of his mind, he thinks he should be more alarmed about his inexplicable inability to move, but as it is, his mind is too muddled for him to be more than vaguely concerned.

Armin is slumped in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, drawn as close to the bed as can be allowed. One of his hands is clutching at one of Eren’s, his grip firm even in his sleep. He’s not still, though; he shifts and turns, making small noises. He’s restless; having a nightmare, maybe. Armin will probably want to know that he is awake, but he can’t move and he can’t call out. Soon, he drifts back to sleep.

The second time he wakes up, it is only for a few seconds. It is just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of Mikasa’s dark hair and her eyes widening when she sees him. “Eren?” she says.

“Mi…kasa,” he manages. The world starts to dip and spin and he struggles to focus on her. It is no good, though. His head flops back and within moments he is once more unconscious. After his sight has already gone, the last thing he hears is Mikasa running for the door, calling Armin’s name.

The third time that he wakes up is the first time that he is able to stay up for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Armin is next to him, back in the same chair, but he stands quickly once he notices that Eren’s awake, moving away rather than closer. Mikasa is in the room too, he sees, but further back, like she’s trying to stay out of the way.

Eren struggles to sit up, gratified to realize that he once again can move his body of his own accord. His throat is parched and he’s positively soaked with sweat. He tries to shove off the excess blankets but Armin comes back and stops him. “I know it’s uncomfortable,” he says, “but we really need to break this fever. Leave it on for now?”

Eren doesn’t want to, but he knows that Armin is only asking him to do what’s best for his health in the long run. When he stops fussing with the bedding, Armin smiles and holds out the cup of water that he had gone to retrieve. Evidently, he had known that Eren would be thirsty. Armin guides the cup to his mouth and tilts it carefully, letting Eren drink his fill before setting it aside. Then he sits back in the chair and clasps his hand. Mikasa approaches quietly and sits on the edge of the bed. When Eren offers her his other hand, she takes it.

“How much do you remember?” Armin asks him.

Eren shakes his head, trying to think back. It’s a bit of a blur, a conglomeration of disjointed sights and sounds. He remembers Armin falling from the tree and landing in his hand; he remembers that same hand getting sticky with evaporating blood. He remembers Mikasa, a tiny figure on the ground, and the terrible groaning of the Titans they left behind as they emerged from the forest. “Not much,” he says. “I remember thinking that I had to get you out of that tree and then not much else.”

“You got me out of the tree,” Armin agrees. “You didn’t recognize Mikasa, though. I had to talk you out of attacking her. Then you cleared a path through the Titans and got us out of the forest safely before you collapsed. For some reason, the moment we were outside of the trees, all of the Titans stopped chasing us.

“We had to cut you out of your Titan body,” he continues, leaning forward. “You were burning with fever, so hot that we couldn’t touch you with our bare hands. We covered you in one of the blankets and carried you the rest of the way to Tekkai; you’d gotten us close enough that it only took another hour or two to arrive.”

Eren nods slowly. He looks around the room, able to take in more details now that he can move his body once more. It’s a simple looking room. It’s small, not too different from what the master bedroom in his childhood home looked like. Aside from the bed he is laying on, there is a small bedside table and a wooden armoire.”Where are we?”

Armin’s gaze sweeps around the room too, like he’s never really paid attention to it’s details before. “After the wall in Trost fell, the other outlying villages were worried that they would be targeted next. There was a mass migration to the interior of Wall Maria, so when we arrived in Tekkai, there were a lot of abandoned houses. This is one of them.”

Eren looks out of the window and hesitates. It’s mid-morning, he guesses from the lightness of the sky. The first time he’d woken up, it had been in the middle of the night. He almost doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he needs to. “How long was I out?”

“After you saw Mikasa, you fell asleep for another thirty minutes,” Armin answers flatly. His words could almost be passed as disinterested, but Eren feels him clutch tighter at his fingers. “Before that, you were unconscious for three days. If you hadn’t woken up by tonight, we were going to risk taking you to a doctor.”

He winces. For them to consider bringing him to a doctor he must’ve been in terrible condition; he is a wanted criminal now, after all. “I’m sorry,” Eren says, but Armin continues to speak over him.

“You had a temperature of 40.5 degrees. You wouldn’t move, you wouldn’t respond to anything. For all I knew, you had fallen into a coma. Imagine that! Eren Jaeger, defeated by a measly fever after getting eaten couldn’t keep him down.”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Eren shouts. “It was either do that or watch you die, I didn’t have a choice! How else were we supposed to get out of there alive?”

Armin lets go of him abruptly and stands. “You must be hungry,” he says. “There are plenty of supplies here, I’m sure I can find something for you. Don’t even think of getting out of that bed.” Eren watches him stride out of the room, his movements stiff and jerky.

“Eren,” Mikasa says, drawing his attention to her. He’d almost forgotten that she was there. She hadn’t said a word during their argument. She’s looking down to the floor as she speaks. “This is the third time you’ve saved mine and Armin’s lives. It was because you don’t want us to die, right?”

“Of course I don’t want either of you to die,” Eren says. “You guys are my family.” As he says it, he feels a fleeting sense of déjà vu, like he’d heard the phrase recently. He files that away to think about later, focusing on Mikasa for now.

“We don’t want you to die either,” she says.

Mikasa doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t need to; she’s gotten her point across. At no point had he stopped to consider his own safety. He had figured that as long as the other two were safe, he could deal with the consequences. Eren imagines how he would feel if it were he in the place of his friends, if it had been them throwing away their lives for his sake. It could only be bittersweet if one of them died saving the others.  The three of them have no one but each other in this world; he needs to be more careful.

Armin returns soon with a bowl of soup that he hands over. Eren tries to raise the spoon, but his hand trembles and the majority ends up spilling. He hadn't realized how weak he is and suddenly he understands just how bad his condition must be. Armin doesn't say anything, just sops up the spill with a corner of one of the many sheets. Then he takes the bowl and spoons up more of the broth, patiently feeding it to Eren.

When he finishes the bowl, Armin makes to leave again but Eren grabs his arm before he can get too far away. "I'm sorry. I can't say I'll never do it again, but I'll be more careful."

Armin nods, his face finally relaxing out of the tight expression he's been wearing. He leans forward and brushes Eren's sweaty hair out of his face. His hands linger on his face, blessedly cool. "Get some more rest," he says gently.

* * *

It’s once again dark outside the next time he wakes up. For a moment, he can’t immediately place what woke him so abruptly, but then he feels the dip in the bed and sees the flash of pale hair.

“Sorry,” Armin says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Eren pushes himself to his forearms. The darkness turns movement to shadows and silhouettes; he can only barely make out Armin’s outline. “No, it’s fine,” he says as he waits for his eyes to adjust. “I’ve had plenty of rest lately.”

“I was just going to sleep. Mikasa’s in the other room, but I could go out into the sitting room if you’d rather?”

He frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, shifting over to make room. “You’ll be very hot under here, though.”

Armin rests his hand on Eren’s forehead. Armin’s hands no longer feel as refreshingly cool as they had before, but his touch is still welcome. Eren is too drunk on sleep to stop the sigh, too relaxed to stop himself from turning his head to press his face further into his friend’s touch. “Your temperature has gone down,” Armin says. “You could take those off now if you want to.”

Without another thought, Eren throws them off. He is cognizant enough to notice how thick they are; these aren’t the same ones that had been in their stolen packs. He guesses that Armin must have found them in the house. It seems like he made a good choice; the food, the furnishings, the comforts: he had been lucky to pick a place that had them all. Or maybe the choice hadn’t been random. Maybe he’d deduced somehow that the family living previously in this house had been well off. Armin was good for making intuitive leaps of logic like that.

Armin climbs into the bed finally and hesitates momentarily. Eren opens his arms in a wordless invitation; in another moment, he aligns himself against Eren’s body, presses himself as close as possible. His body is heated and when Eren encircles his arms around his front, he feels almost as warm as he had before he pulled off the blankets.

“How many times do I have to lose you?” Armin whispers into the darkness. In the silence, his words are all too loud. “I don’t want you to die, Eren.”

Eren can’t think of anything to say that would reassure his friend. He knows that any words he can come up with will only sound like empty promises because they both know that he would do it again in a heartbeat. He’s promised to be more careful, and he will – it was his fault that they’d ended up in that situation. It had been he to suggest that they ignore the danger and use their manoeuvre gear. He knows that Armin isn’t weak and doesn’t need protecting, but if he were put in the same situation again, he wouldn’t hesitate.

So instead, he grips Armin tight, envelops him as fully as he can. He doesn’t want to die either, he tries to convey, because he’d have to lose Armin and Mikasa if he does. He loves them too much to let them go.

He’s not tired, not when he’s been sleeping for the past three days. Once Armin’s breaths go slow and even, he slips out of the bed. The house he’s in is too foreign for his comfort, but at the same time it reminds him too much of his childhood home and of all the bad memories associated with the place. He decides he’ll explore a bit and learn his surroundings in an attempt to relax.

He keeps one hand on the wall as he exits the room and walks down the hallway; it is dark, and he is in an unfamiliar place. He doesn’t want to trip or walk into a wall. The walls under his hand are smooth wood.

He finds another bedroom and considers peering in. Armin had said Mikasa was asleep in there and she is a notoriously light sleeper; he doesn’t want to disturb her. Eventually he decides to risk it, holding his breath as he cracks the door as if his exhalations alone would be enough to disturb her. The room, from what he can tell from the miniscule light that the moon provides, is much like the other one. It’s smaller – probably belonging to a kid, judging from the small toy box he spots.  There is also a small rug on the floor in front of a smaller bed, another nearly identical armoire and a window facing the opposite direction.

There’s a bathroom that leaves him momentarily stupefied. It’s not the first time he’s seen indoor plumbing facilities, but he isn’t used to them. Only the very rich have them and he’s heard it’s prevalent behind Wall Sina. This family had been better off than he had originally assumed. That thought is further proven when he enters the kitchen. Sinks and refrigerators are more common than indoor plumbing, but they’re usually only found in large establishments. The military training camp had used them.

Eren rummages through the fridge and the cupboards, noting how well stocked it is. It’s like whoever had lived here had just dropped everything and ran without bothering to pack. He’s sure that if he checks the closets, there will be clothes left behind, too. Hopefully, they’ll be able to find something to fit all of them.

“We’ll have to eat the perishables quickly before they spoil, but everything else should last us for a while.”

Eren jumps, startled, and tries to cover the movement poorly by reaching for the kettle and filling it with water from the tap. It doesn’t work if the small snort he hears behind him is any indication. “Do you want some?” he asks lamely and Armin nods. He checks if there’s enough water for the both of them before setting it on the stove.

Eren migrates to the small couch in what the family must have used as a sitting area, bypassing the wooden table. Judging by its uncomfortable appearance, that is where Armin had procured the chair that had been at his bedside. “Í didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks.

“No,” Armin answers as he moves to joins him at the couch. “I wasn’t asleep.” Eren lifts his arm and drapes it around him; Armin rests his head on his shoulder, letting his eyes drift shut. His wispy eyelashes are translucent in the gloom, the only light coming from the fire on the stove and the lurking moon.

“Stop thinking so hard. You might break,” Armin teases him. “Want to share with the rest of us?”

"When I was a Titan," Eren begins slowly, "you told me that you love me."

Armin shifts to catch Eren's eyes, frowning faintly and his eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah, I did," he says. "That's not exactly news."

"I don't think you meant as a friend."

For a moment, Armin doesn't respond. He's not avoiding the question, just considering how best to answer. "I _do_ love you as a friend," he says finally, after long moments of silence have gone by. "You're the closest thing I have to a brother now, and I love you that way too. And yes, I love you as more than either of those, too." He spreads his hands and shrugs, but he doesn't tense and he doesn't move from where his head is resting on Eren.

Impulsively, Eren catches one of those hands between his own. He thinks about Armin, how right it feels when they fall asleep together, the sheer number of times they've held hands or kissed innocently on the cheek, on the neck. He remembers Armin reading to him aloud, studying together at night, their long-winded discussions about the world at large.

Armin, next to him, looks the way he always has and smells the way he always has. His blonde hair is just slightly mussed from the bed, but it's the same bob he's always had, the same hairstyle he refused to change no matter how many disparaging comments he heard about it. He smells, as always, like books and ink and vaguely like vanilla.

"I don't," Eren starts, twining his fingers through Armin's almost absently. "I mean, of course I love you. But I mean, I."

He gives up on speech; Armin's the one that's always been good with words, not him. He is only good at acting, and so he acts to express what he can't find the words to explain. With his free hand, he turns Armin's head and kisses him, chaste and close-mouthed. He feels Armin press back against him almost immediately and he feels something inside him flip in elation.

"What you mean," Armin says when they withdraw, damnably unperturbed, "is that you love me, but you're not _in_ love with me. But you're afraid, because you know it would be too easy to fall in love. Right?"

Eren nods, relieved that Armin understands. As usual, he knows exactly the right thing to say. "Yes," he says belatedly, because it seems like Armin is waiting for a verbal response.

"I know because that's how I feel, too. I'm not in love with you," Armin says. For a moment he eyes Eren, and then he swings his legs around until he's straddling Eren's lap. His palms go to cradle Eren's face as he leans in. "Not yet."

Eren has never been kissed before; he had never been as fascinated by the concept of dating and kissing as some of the other guys his age. There had never been the time for it. Here though, and now, he can see the attraction.

This second kiss that Armin initiates is anything but chaste. He is clearly inexperienced, but he knows what he wants and he knows how to take it. Armin opens his mouth and exhales little puffs of air against Eren’s mouth, waiting patiently for him to copy the motion. As soon as he does though, Armin’s tongue is in his mouth, curled deliciously around his, coaxing and teasing. It’s a jolt of pleasure that Eren feels throughout his body. His eyes close of their own volition and he moans helplessly into Armin’s mouth. He laps up the sound greedily.

It’s messy, and it’s uncoordinated. Neither of them knows what they are doing, but they decide wordlessly that they’ll learn it together. Eren finds himself clutching Armin’s hips when they draw back for air, with no recollection of putting them there. Armin’s eyes glint and he rocks down against Eren’s erection. Eren groans and hauls him forward, licking his way back into Armin’s mouth.

Armin’s hands find their way under his clothes; his palms are cool and damp, but this time it is Armin, not fever, that is making his body so heated. Eren sucks on his tongue in a moment of inspiration and Armin’s hands go suddenly sharp, his nails digging into Eren’s bare chest. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, breaking away.

“Don’t apologize,” he replies. With one hand, he gathers Armin’s hair into his fist and licks a kiss into the skin of his throat, the other guiding him to rock down again. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, but Eren keeps his gaze on Armin. He looks too good like this and Eren knows he can too easily get addicted to the sight.

Armin pushes him away just long enough to snag the hem of Eren’s shirt and pull it over his head. The time it takes seems to go on forever, wasted millennia spent not kissing, but it is worth it once it’s fully off. Armin’s hands are free to rove over bare skin unrestricted He rolls one of Eren’s nipples between his fingers and Eren yelps at the unexpected burst of pleasure.

“Never tried that before?” Armin whispers into his ear. “What else haven’t you tried?”

Eren groans and cradles Armin to his body, letting gravity overtake them both and landing horizontal on the couch. Armin grunts at the weight and then laughs, reaching up to pull Eren down into another messy kiss. Eren can feel the shape of his smile against his mouth as he spreads his legs so that Eren can settle between them. The smile disappears quickly when he ruts forward, replaced by a drawn out whine.

A sudden high-pitched wail startles the both of them into stillness. They freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed. “That will be the kettle,” Armin says.

“The what?”

“The kettle. The tea.”

Eren tries to think back through the hazy fog of his lust-addled mind. It takes a moment for him to remember the kettle he’d set on the stove. It seems like such a long time ago. It seems ridiculously unimportant in the face of these new developments, but if he leaves it whistling too long Mikasa will wake up. The choice is obvious.

“Right,” Eren says and sighs. He pushes himself off of Armin. His eyes, usually so light, are dark and huge, the blue of his irises almost completely swallowed by his blown pupils. Eren can feel his gaze on him as he turns to go to the kitchen. He’s certain he looks ridiculous with his pants visibly tented and his shirt nowhere to be found. His hair is ruffled beyond recognition. There are ten perfect crescent moons scored into his chest and his lips are sore enough that he knows they’re swollen.

It takes him a moment to actually find the tea and the cups to pour it in and another moment to wait for the tea to brew properly. By the time he returns to the sitting room, two cups in tow, Armin is sitting up straight once more. He hadn’t bothered attempting to make himself look presentable the way Eren had; he’s still half hard. He doesn’t look ridiculous, though. He looks enticing.

Armin accepts his cup as Eren sits down next to him. He wraps both hands around it and blows gently, waiting for it too cool enough for him to drink. When they had been younger, Armin had insisted that Eren learn to brew a proper cup of tea. It hadn’t mattered to him either way, but he is happy that he did now. Armin savors each sip individually in a way Eren’s never had the patience to. By the time he’s done with the hot drink, Armin’s cup is still more than half full.

Impatiently, Eren sidles closer, his hands landing on Armin’s thigh and trailing teasingly up and down. It’s not enough, so he presses himself closer and sucks at his throat. Armin’s hands tremble and the tea spills just a bit, landing with a small splash and a muffled oath. Armin doesn’t seem truly annoyed though, more amused than anything. “Just wait until I finish my tea,” he says, laughing. “You can wait that long, can’t you?”

Eren catches his eyes. “We’ve both been waiting too long, I think,” he says seriously.

“Just wait,” he repeats, but his voice is softer now, fond and full of promise.

The moment Armin drains his cup, Eren is on him again; the cup falls and narrowly avoids breaking. He presses Armin back against the couch, covering his body with his own. He tugs at the bottom of Armin’s shirt. “Can I take this off?” he murmurs. He feels Armin nod and raise his hands so Eren can pull it over his head. He doesn’t know where it lands and he doesn’t care to see.

Armin stands abruptly and takes Eren’s hand, leading them back to the bedroom. There’s a moment of awkwardness before Eren turns to flip on the gas lantern. When he turns back, Armin’s naked. The flickers of light from the new flame dance across his skin, simultaneously shadowing and illuminating, throwing the barest splash of color onto his pale skin. He doesn’t look nervous and he doesn’t try to cover himself because they both know it’s not the first time Eren has seen him like this. It’s the same thing he’s seen so many times before, but it is still somehow different. His mouth goes dry as he steps closer.

Armin’s gentle hands help him out of the rest of his clothes before they topple somewhat haphazardly into the bed. Remembering not too lean to heavily on him, Eren settles them facing each other on their sides. Everywhere they touch there is skin on skin contact; it’s dizzying and electrifying. Eren can’t say who starts it, but they’re kissing again, slow and sloppy. When Armin shifts, opening his leg just a little, their dicks brush against each other. He shifts again, more deliberately this time, and they slip against each other, the glide made easy by their combined precome. Eren finds himself moaning, too turned on to be embarrassed by the noise.

“Do you think we’re moving too fast?” Eren asks.

Armin’s expression goes thoughtful. “I think each couple should have their own pace and do whatever suits them best,” he says. “It’s possible that we’re going faster than most people do, but it’s not exactly like we have someone to pace ourselves against.” He smiles cheekily, his hands going between Eren’s legs. “If it makes you feel better, think of the past few years we spent dancing around each other as dates. I figure it’s about time to put out now.”

Armin tugs on his dick, quickly settling into the motion, coaxing tiny sounds out of Eren’s slack mouth. He feels Armin’s touch everywhere, explicitly aware of every place that their skin meets, of their tangled legs and limbs. Dimly, Eren thinks he should return the gesture; he needs to find a way to let Armin feel as good as he does.

“I could,” he starts, motioning uselessly but Armin shakes his head.

“I want to make you come,” he says. There’s an excruciating pause when Armin lets go of him, but then his hands return, slick from spit. He hadn’t thought anything could be better than the feeling of Armin’s hand on his dick, but this is infinitely better. The touch is slicker, wetter, rougher, hotter. His body ruts forward without his permission, fucking into Armin’s hands. “That’s it,” Armin whispers into his skin. He adjusts his grip, squeezing tighter. His other hand goes to fondle Eren’s ball sac as his nails scrape over his head and into the slit.

Eren's hands scrabble for purchase, skating over Armin's arms and legs before catching on the sheets. He fists them, wrinkling them. He bites down on his lips to stop the noises flooding out. "Stop that," Armin chides when he notices. "I want to hear you." He latches onto Eren's collarbone and sucks hard enough that Eren knows it will bruise before he bites down, hard enough that Eren shouts.

His strokes speed up. Eren feels a coil winding in just gut, drawing tighter and tighter, hauling him closer to the brink. He dangles on a precipice for one agonizing moment.

"I love you," Armin reminds him and his nails dig in again, too hard. Tears spring unbidden to his eyes. It hurts, but it hurts too good and he's coming. He loses track of time and of himself, his vision whiting out. When he can see again, he's lying boneless on the bed and Armin's staring at him in wonder.

"You did this to me," Eren accuses him.

"I did, didn't I?" he says in awe.

Eren allows himself several beats to recover before pushing himself to his forearms. He kisses Armin slowly, lazily, tongue curling into his mouth and hands roaming his body. He allows his hand to drift teasingly over Armin's cock before he stands. He takes both of Armin's hands and uses them to tug him into the position he wants; Armin sits on the bed with his legs thrown over the side. Then Eren kneels between them, spreads them open further.

"You don't have to," Armin tells him. "You could just do it with your hands."

"I want to," Eren replies and bends his head to lick at Armin's cock. To his relief, if doesn't taste like much; a little salty from his precome, maybe a bit bitter. Overall though, there's not much to protest about. He opens up wider, sinking as far down as he can. For a moment, he just stays there, marveling at the velvety feel, the heaviness of Armin's cock on his tongue.

He sucks back up hard, mindful of his teeth. Armin makes an aborted sound like a whimper, thighs trembling at the effort of keeping still. Eren goes slow, learning his way around Armin's dick, learning that sucking on the tip makes him groan, learning how to curl his tongue just right, learning how to relax his throat to take him deeper.

Then, when he feels ready, he takes Armin's hands and guides them to his hair. For a minute Armin hesitates, but then he grips tight to hold him steady and shoves his dick in. Eren shuts his eyes, reveling in the taste, sucking when he can. His face is wet with drool and precome, but he doesn't stop to wipe it away. His jaw is aching from the stretch, but the discomfort is ignorable when he raises his eyes and sees Armin’s had thrown back in unabridged pleasure.

Too soon, Armin's hips start stuttering out of rhythm, jerking in and out unsteadily. "I'm gonna come," he warns. Eren hesitates a moment too long and doesn't pull away fast enough. Armin's come splashes onto his face in wet spurts.

For a moment he doesn't know how to respond, kneeling there blinking ejaculate out of his eyes. Armin tugs on the sheet and uses it to wipe up the mess with gentle hands before pulling Eren to his feet. Armin tilts his head up to kiss him, tugging them backwards. They land breathless and laughing on the bed.

They squirm around each other until their heads are back on the pillows, Armin pressed against Eren's chest. "We can do laundry in the morning," Armin says.

"But," Eren says, gesturing vaguely to indicate the come staining their bodies, "we'll get sticky."

"In the morning," he repeats firmly. Eren can't bring himself to argue, not when he's feeling this lazy and sated. He doesn't want to move anyway. So he doesn't, just adjusts his position and waits to fall asleep with Armin in his arms, where he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I didn't plan for this chapter to only have them establish their relationship and sex. I swear this fic has an actual plot.  
> It will also have more porn, but that's not the point.


End file.
